After Hours
by Clay
Summary: An evening's detention turns deadly. pairings are mostly HD and RHr. (in progress)
1. Don't Drink the Coffee

After Hours  
Chapter One: Don't Drink the Coffee  
By Clay  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairings: HP/DM, RW/HG, with slight RW/PP, DM/PP  
Warnings: Um, this is a horror story so there's death. A bunch of it. Some cursing. Slash and Het. And this is vaguely AU (Continuity's the same, but they're in an American style high school as opposed to a boarding school.) Oh, and spoilers for OotP.  
Notes: Idea for this story taken without reservation from the book "Deadly Detention" by Eric Weiner  
Summary: An evening's detention turns deadly.  
.

"I can't believe we're missing practice for this!"

Harry threw a sympathetic look to his best friend. He was disappointed that they were missing Quidditch practice for detention as well, but there was nothing they could do about it. He shrugged.

"At least Hermione's going to be with us."

"Yeah." A tiny smile flitted across Ron's lips, and Harry couldn't help but notice the bitterness behind it.

"Hey," he said, laying a hand on Ron's shoulder, stopping him as he moved to open the classroom door, "is everything okay?"

Ron was still smiling that small, bitter smile. "Sure."

With that he pulled away and went inside.

Hermione was already seated in the middle of the front row, head buried in her History of Magic Text. She looked up briefly as they entered, but went immediately back to work.

Harry took a look around. Charms class was always a fun class and Professor Flitwick's room reinforced that. The desks were all scorched and graffitied; the last two desks of the widow aisle were covered with a green film and were avoided at all costs. Harry smiled and walked over to the windows. Students were spilling out of the school, and back behind the gym he could see the red robes of the Gryffindor Quidditch team as they lifted into the air. His hands itched for his broom. He longed to open the window and lean out into the wind, but the bottom pane only tilted out about six inches. The teachers said this was so no student could accidentally fall out, but they all knew it was so that no one would escape. Harry laid one palm again the sun-warmed glass and sighed.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked. Harry turned to see him leaning over Hermione. "This is detention. Why make it worse by studying?"

A shadow passed over Hermione's face. She opened her mouth to speak and then thought better of it. Instead, she pulled away without even a glance in Ron's direction and crossed the room to Harry.

"I don't have time for this," she muttered, turning to gaze out of the window. "We have a test in Transfigurations tomorrow."

Harry, confused by Hermione's easy dismissal of Ron, threw him a look, but Ron just rolled his eyes. Harry sighed again and turned back to watch Quidditch practice. "I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Still," she said, "at least an hour that I could be studying wasted... for nothing." Ron's earlier bitterness was mirrored in her words.

Suddenly the door slammed open and Professor Snape strode in, a miserable Neville trailing him. He threw a disgusted look around the cozy, messy room.

Harry froze. If Snape was administering detention this evening...

But Snape seemed to have read his mind. "Don't look so horrified. I don't have the time to baby sit delinquents today. I'm simply here to deliver Mr. Longbottom." His gaze lingered on Harry and a frown deepened the creases around his mouth. "I suggest you make better use of your time than staring out a window if you ever plan on graduating, Mr. Potter."

Their eyes held, locked for an instant, and the Snape turned to sweep out of the room. Just as he reached the door, however, he paused. "Mr. Malfoy. A pity to see you serving detention. Of course I know it wasn't _your_ fault." He looked to Harry once again and then he was gone.

The next moment Draco Malfoy was striding into the room, Pansy Parkinson hurrying after him. He gazed around disdainfully, but refused to even grace the trio with an insult. He simply strode to the back of the room and dropped into a seat, pulling out some textbooks.

Harry turned back to the window, but he couldn't block out the high whine of Pansy's voice.

"Draco, darling, put the books away. I've barely gotten to see you all day."

Draco's reply was little more than a disgruntled whisper, but his voice rang clear enough to be heard across the silent room. "There are more important things to worry about than snogging, Pansy."

Hermione smiled from her place beside Harry. "That's the first intelligent thing he's ever said."

"No one asked you, mudblood."

Outraged, Harry spun toward Draco, but Ron had beaten him to it.

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"I certainly wasn't talking to you, Weasely."

"Besides," Hermione eyed the boys darkly, "I can take care of myself." Ron's face fell, and Hermione turned away.

Harry looked between them. Finally he said, "All right. What is going on?"

But Hermione threw him a look that clearly said 'Not now.'

Pansy sighed and Harry heard the telltale pop of gum. She perched on the desk in front of Draco. "Some girls don't know how good they've got it."

"What?" Draco practically snarled, glancing at Ron. His nonchalance over Pansy apparently didn't apply when it came to Gryffindors. And by the smug smile on Pansy's face, it was exactly what she had hoped for.

"Yes, Draco, dear?"

"You're not saying you have a thing for Weasely, are you?"

"Oh, Merlin, no." Pansy looked disgusted. "I'm just saying he makes a better boyfriend than you."

Hermione gave a small, humorless laugh.

Malfoy, however, looked positively livid. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a minute before he composed himself. "Whatever. Now, if you'll excuse me," and he turned back to his books.

Pansy stared at him in disbelief, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "asshole" before springing off the desk and moving several seats forward. She gave a deep sigh and looked over the rest of the room, twirling her gum around one finger. "So," she said after a moment, locking eyes with Harry and snapping her gum, "What are you in for?"

It took Harry a moment to answer, so shocked was he that she was even addressing him. He looked to Draco who was watching him with a carefully blank expression.

"Er... fighting... I guess."

She followed his gaze to Draco and then rolled her eyes, tsking loudly. "You were caught dueling in the halls _again? _I swear, Draco, you've got an obsession."

"The Weasel started it," Draco grumbled into his text.

Ron cringed and threw Harry an apologetic look for the umpteenth time that day, and Harry smiled back encouragingly. He, Harry, had only been backing his friend up. In his mind, there was nothing to apologize for.

"I was framed," Pansy was saying, "Someone planted Brown's wand in my bag. As if I'd ever touch something of hers." Her eyes dropped to Neville, but no one need ask why he had been given detention. They had all been in class when Neville's cauldron exploded, showering everyone within 10 feet with a numbing potion, Snape included.

A cool breeze lifted the hairs on Harry's neck and he turned to see that it had started to rain. The schoolyard was empty, save the tiny red blurs over the Quidditch pitch. But as a particularly vibrant streak of lightening lit up the sky, even they gave up, one by one disappearing into the locker rooms. The charms classroom was on the second and topmost floor of the school. Heavy rain beat a rhythm on the roof and Hermione moved to retake her seat.

Pansy seemed to purposely wait until Hermione had been reabsorbed into her book before speaking again. "So, how about you?"

When she received no reply, Pansy leaned across the desk between them to prod Hermione. "Granger, how did you manage to get detention?"

Harry already knew the story, but was still amused at Hermione's blush. "Quite frankly," she said in a near whisper, "that's none of your business."

"Oh, come off it," Ron grumbled, still standing by Draco near the back of the room. "Are you too embarrassed of me to tell?"

Hermione spun on him, now flushed with anger. "Embarrassed by you?" She spat. "No. I'm embarrassed at myself for even bothering with you."

Ron certainly had a reply to that, but was cut off as the classroom door opened again. Filch trudged inside, arms loaded down with cleaning supplies. He set a worn and scuffed bucket onto Flitwick's desk, sloshing soapy water over the rim. A pile of sponges and scouring pads followed. A bright orange sponge tumbled off the desk and landed at Harry's feet, where he still stood, back to the windows.

Filch was muttering to himself in a decidedly insane manner. His words weren't clear enough to be understood, but his expression changed from bitterly angry to gleefully happy often enough to give them all reason to worry.

He noticed the sponge lying at Harry's feet and bent to scoop it up. With Filch only a foot away, Harry caught the unmistakable stench of alcohol. Filch's bulging eyes were not quite focused as he lifted his gaze to Harry's.

"Wand, Potter," he murmured, a hint of malicious joy in his voice.

Harry hesitated, his fingers instinctively curling around the length of holly in his pocket.

"Sir?"

"I said give me your wand. Now. All of you," he added, sweeping the rest of the room with his bleary gaze. Another moment's hesitation and they were all coming forward, wands offered uncertainly. Filch took them all and shoved them deep inside his coat.

"Now," he croaked, taking a place of authority behind Flitwick's desk, "all you brats have managed to get detention this afternoon. Lucky you." He motioned for Harry, who was closest, to approach him and ordered him to distribute the sponges among the students. Harry began a circuit of the room, and Filch continued. "I can't spend time on rule breakers this afternoon, so you're all going to help me." One hand swung in a wide arch encompassing the room. "Look at this place. No respect for school property. If you morons can't even take care of what's given you then you're damn well going to help clean it up."

"But..." Ron's gaze lingered, horrified, on the green film covered desks. "This will take weeks to clean without magic."

Filch chuckled, dry and rasping. "One can only hope. Now get to work. I'll be back in half an hour and this room had better be spotless."

"Where are _you_ going?" Draco blurted out, viciously twisting the orange sponge Harry had just handed him.

Filch paused at the door, eyeing them all murderously. "I still have work to do. Mrs. Norris will be keeping you company, of course."

The cat, previously unnoticed, hopped onto Flitwick's desk and sat, unmoving, her yellow eyes boring into the back wall. A moment later Filch was gone, his boots sounding a death toll as he shuffled down the corridor. Despite Mrs. Norris' presence, a collective breath was released with Filch's departure.

Hermione stared at her own sponge a moment and then muttered, "I guess we should get to work."

"Speak for yourself," Pansy sneered, "I'm not touching this filth."

Draco was nodding his agreement. "Just wait till my father hears about this," he muttered, tossing his sponge on the ground and once again absorbing himself in his books. Mrs. Norris bristled, unnoticed by the Slytherins.

"You _will_ help us," Hermione said, shoving Pansy's sponge in her face, but Pansy merely knocked it aside.

"I don't take orders from mudbloods."

Hermione remained surprisingly calm. "You only call me that because you're jealous."

"Jealous?" Pansy sounded scandalized. Suddenly she smiled, "Funny. I thought you would be the jealous one." Her eyes flickered briefly to Ron.

Harry didn't understand what she was implying, but apparently Hermione did. She followed Pansy's gaze, scowling at Ron who stared blankly back.

"Fine," She nearly spat, "Do what you like."

And so the Gryffindors cleaned in silence. Neville and Ron attacked the green desks while Harry and Hermione took either side of the room, working inwards. When Harry approached Pansy's desk, she moved obediently, though stuck her chewed gum in the center of it before wandering off. Draco, however, was a little more difficult.

"Move, Malfoy."

He didn't even look up.

"Please?"

A small smile graced Draco's lips. Eyes still on his book he replied, "Though I do so like hearing you beg, Potter, you might as well save your breath. I'm not going anywhere."

But after 10 minutes Draco put his books away and actually began to scrub his own desk. Just as he was finishing, the classroom door opened. Filch walked in without a word. He eyed Mrs. Norris, who seemed to psychically communicate with him.

"Been slacking off, eh?" Filch smiled nastily and began to inspect their work. They had cleaned only three of the five rows of desks. The previously green desks were now practically sparkling clean, but Filch either didn't notice or didn't care. He growled, pacing up and down each row.

"I give you one simple task," he rasped, "One simple task and six of you morons can't even accomplish that." He began muttering under his breath, saying something along the lines of being too dependant on wands and about torture being that most effective method of punishment.

Harry inadvertently cringed as Filch passed him. The man reeked of hard liquor.

"So," Filch snarled, coming once again to face them at the front of the room, "since you could not finish the one thing I asked of you, we will be staying. You have one more half hour to finish cleaning this room or we'll have to move on to something more... challenging..." A mad gleam had come to his eyes with that final word. He turned to leave and then paused, eyeing Harry in particular with an unpleasant smile. "And I want this floor spotless."

"All right," said Harry once Filch had gone. He scooped up Draco and Pansy's sponges and handed them to each in turn. "You _will_ be helping. I don't know about you two, but the rest of us want to get out of here before we graduate. Everyone take a desk and let's get started."

Pansy opened her mouth to argue, but it was Draco, surprisingly, who spoke first.

"Just do it, Pansy."

Harry gave him a grateful look, but he just scowled and turned away.

Twenty minutes later they were finished with the desks and halfway through the floor when Ron stood.

"I have to pee," he replied to Harry's questioning look. He started for the door, Mrs. Norris on his heels, but Draco spoke up.

"Get back here, Weasely." He said, scrubbing at a particularly difficult spot. Harry had to smile at the sight of Draco Malfoy on hands and knees scrubbing a floor. "You're not getting out of this."

"Shove it, Malfoy," Harry said, still grinning, "He's worked twice as hard as you," and to Ron, "Just go."

"Wait for me," Hermione called, jumping to her feet and dusting off her skirt. Ron frowned as she approached him, but she just shrugged, voice darkening, "Girls pee, too, you know."

A few minutes later they were back and by the time the half hour was up, even the floor shone. The six stood, admiring their work.

"He has to let us go now," Ron grinned, wiping the sweat from his brow.

And so they waited. Ten minutes passed in friendly banter between the Gryffindors. Even Ron and Hermione were getting along.

Harry glanced at the clock for the twelfth time in half as many minutes. "Where do you think Filch is?"

"For that matter, where is Mrs. Norris?" Draco asked. The Slytherins had both remained icily quiet, not even bothering to talk to each other, but now all eyes were on Draco.

"That's right..." Harry mused, "I haven't seen her since..."

"Since Ron and I came back from the lavatories." Hermione finished, and everyone looked to her and Ron.

"I don't know," Ron said, confused gaze locked firmly with Hermione's. "When we went to the bathroom, she waited in the hall, but I don't remember seeing her when we got out..."

"Neither did I." Hermione bit her lip. "I didn't even realize...." There was a long silence while Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully.

"You don't think Filch left, do you?" Neville whispered, horrified.

"I doubt it." Harry reassured him.

Hermione nodded. "Even if he did leave for some reason, there must be another teacher in the building."

"Well it's only been ten minutes," Harry said, "I'm sure he'll be here soon."

And so they waited. And waited. The clock on the wall had just hit five when Neville said, "I'm getting scared."

Draco laughed, "Merlin, you Gryffindors are a riot." He lifted himself out of his seat and stored away his books. "Filch's probably just drunk himself into a stupor. Probably passed out in his office right now."

"But Mrs. Norris..."

But Draco ignored Neville's protest. He slung his bag over his shoulder and strode purposely toward the door. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I want to get the Hell out of here. I'm going to find him."

Pansy jumped up. "I'm coming, too."

Draco paused, watching the rest. His gaze fell on Harry and he tilted his head slightly. "Well?"

Harry sighed, "Let's go."

The building was eerily silent as the group made their way across the school to Filch's office. Hogwarts High was, amusingly enough, in the shape of a capital H with stairwells and lavatories at either end of the two longer corridors. The cafeteria sat between the uppermost hallways with the library and gym to either side. Filch's office was on the first floor, in the opposite corner from Flitwick's classroom.

They exited the stairwell in the lower left corner of the H and came out practically right in front of Filch's office. The door stood slightly ajar.

Harry put his hand on the knob.

"No, don't," Neville squeaked from his hiding place behind Hermione. Harry hesitated, looking between the door and Neville and back again.

"Oh, come on," Draco shoved him out of the way and threw the door open.

The office was empty.

The six kids piled inside, all looking about curiously, but there was absolutely no sign of either Filch or Mrs. Norris.

"I have to admit this is a bit strange," Ron spoke up, poking around Filch's desk.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "He's probably upstairs right now looking for us."

"Maybe," Harry agreed halfheartedly. He eyed the manacles hanging on the far wall with discomfort.

"Damn it," Draco whispered, slamming shut a drawer on Filch's desk, "He still has our wands with him."

"Well..." Ron took one last look around the room, "we're not going to find him standing around here." He looked to Harry.

"Right. Let's go back upstairs."

"No." Hermione shook her head, lost in thought. "Let's check the staff room first."

The staff room was a short distance away, also on the first floor, nestled in the center of the cross bar of the H. When they arrived, however, it was also mercilessly empty.

"Well, what now?" Pansy groaned, slumping down onto one of the well-worn couches.

Harry stared out of one small window, lost in the gray sky and the rain spattering against the pane. "I guess... we go back upstairs. And wait."

"Hell, no," Draco ground out. "I'm getting out of here. Come on, Pansy."

Pansy jumped up, pleased at the attention.

"I'm going with you." Ron started after them, but Hermione's voice stopped him.

"Of course you are." Her arms were still crossed, eyes boring into Ron's.

"What does that mean?"

The door fell closed. Draco and Pansy were gone.

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione's voice grew louder with every word until she was practically yelling, "Just that you're happy to follow that Slytherin trash around like a little dog!"

Ron stayed silent, but it was all the affirmation Hermione needed.

Her arms dropped; a tear streaked down her cheek, but when she spoke, her voice was strong and unwavering. "There's got to be a teacher or someone still in the building. I'm going to find them. You can wait here if you like."

And then she was gone.

"Ron...?" Harry took a step toward his best friend, but Ron just shook his head, one hand up to stop him. He couldn't meet Harry's eyes as he whispered, "I'd better go after her."

Harry just stared at the door for minutes after Ron had left, thoughts threatening to overwhelm him. Finally he spoke. "Ron... Ron likes...?"

"Pansy?" Neville offered.

Harry looked up to see him seated on one of the couches. He had almost forgotten the other boy was there. Harry plopped down on the other end of the couch.

"But... but why?" Hermione is ten times the woman Pansy is."

"Yeah," Neville agreed, "but Pansy is hot."

"But... I don't..."

"I know, I know," Neville smiled, albeit a bit uncomfortably. "You don't see girls like that."

Harry almost laughed. His sexual preference was no secret, but that wasn't what he was going to say. Still, perhaps it was part of why he didn't understand.

"Think of it like this," Neville said, "She's like a female version of Malfoy."

"But he's an asshole."

"Yes. An attractive asshole."

Harry smiled. "I... I guess." He climbed to his feet and stretched languidly, cracking his back. "You know, we had better go looking for everyone. You head back to Charms. I'll meet you there."

Neville nodded. They went into the hallway and made to part ways, but Neville's hand on Harry's shoulder gave him pause. There was fear in Neville's soft brown eyes. "Hurry."

Harry gave a curt nod. Neville rushed off toward Flitwick's room and Harry watched him go. Maybe he'd check Filch's office again. He could be hiding their wands somewhere they hadn't yet checked. But as he rounded the corner, he ran head first into someone coming from the other direction, and sent them both sprawling.

"Ow..." Harry rubbed his forehead. He opened his eyes to see the other person doing the same.

"Nice aim, Potter."

Harry grimaced. "Malfoy." He got to his feet, offering a hand to Draco. Draco eyed it in distrust for a moment, but eventually gave in and let Harry help him up. Draco's hand was cool and soft in his as Harry pulled him to his feet.

"So," Harry smiled, "where were you off to in such a hurry?"

Draco scowled, but Harry could swear he saw a hint of a blush stain the boy's pale cheeks. "Nowhere."

"Right." Harry's looked behind Draco to the empty corridor beyond. "Hey, where's Pansy?"

Draco shrugged. "Who cares?"

Harry lifted an eyebrow, which Draco caught, rolling his eyes dramatically. He gave a long sigh, "We were trying the exits, but they're all locked. So Pansy suggested we find an empty classroom and... well, I'm sure you can figure out what she wanted. The point is that I refused and she got all huffy and took off."

"Huh," Harry shook his head, "Is _everyone_ having relationship problems?"

"Yeah, well," Draco shrugged, "I wouldn't call losing Pansy a problem."

At Harry's questioning look, Draco shrugged again and turned away. "I suppose there's someone else I'm interested in... as if it's any of _your_ business."

"Oh?" Harry asked, amused at Draco's sudden bashfulness. Then a thought hit him. "Empty classroom?"

Draco spun back around looking absolutely mortified. "What are you suggesting, Potter?"

Harry caught the horrified look and dark blush and laughed. "Oh, God, no. I just remembered something Hermione mentioned."

"Oh, and what's that?" Draco, much more calm now, sounded almost disappointed.

But Harry was moving, walking quickly away from Filch's office down to the other end of the corridor. "Hermione suggested that there still might be teachers in the building despite the fact that it's after five."

"What teacher would have such a non-existent social life that he'd still be in school at this hour?"

Harry stopped in front of a door, grinning broadly.

Draco checked the nameplate next to the door and looked to Harry, a genuine smile on his face. "Snape!"

Unlike Filch's office, the door to the potions classroom was tightly shut. The mottled glass showed only a hint of shape and color beyond, but they could clearly make out Snape seated at his desk.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. "He's still here." He practically ran inside calling out, "Professor?

"Professor Snape?" Draco said again, in a softer tone when there was no answer.

Harry followed cautiously. Snape appeared to be sleeping. Harry stared at the teacher; his head lay on the desktop, facing away from them. Papers – the essays they had handed in that afternoon he realized – were strewn across the desk. As they watched one slipped over the edge and fluttered to the floor.

Draco crept around the desk to face Snape and stopped, a look of horror on his face. He back stepped suddenly, slamming into Harry, who instinctively grabbed Draco by the shoulders.

"What? What is it?"

Draco whirled around in his arms, eyes wide. "He..." he whispered and then shot away, backing away from the desk, hugging himself tightly.

Harry watched him a second and the moved to look at Snape.

Snape lay unmoving, one hand curled around a plain black mug. His eyes were open, unblinking, and had a dull, glazed look about them. A small trickle of blood ran from one corner of his mouth.

He was dead.

TBC


	2. Death by Dodgeball

After Hours  
Chapter 2: Death by Dodgeball  
By Clay  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairings: HP/DM, RW/HG, with slight RW/PP, DM/PP  
Warnings: Um, this is a horror story so there's death. A bunch of it. Some cursing. Slash and Het. And this is vaguely AU (Continuity's the same, but they're in an American style high school as opposed to a boarding school.) Oh, and spoilers for OotP... and I guess GoF.  
Notes: Idea for this story taken without reservation from the book "Deadly Detention" by Eric Weiner  
Summary: An evening's detention turns deadly.

.

Harry couldn't move; he couldn't think. He could only stare at Snape, repeating the words over and over in his head. Snape is dead. Snape is dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Until it became a sick sort of mantra.

Sirius was dead, though Harry had never been faced with his body. Cedric had died right in front of him, but there wasn't time to dwell on it when his own life had been at stake. Not only that, but Cedric had been a student, a child, not some infallible teacher. Snape was dead, and with no Voldemort to face, no battle to rage, Harry could only stand and stare in the silence of the classroom.

"He's...." Draco said again and Harry nodded.

A sudden bang made them both jump, and they looked up to the half open door behind the desk that lead to Snape's office. A familiar indistinct muttering reached their ears.

"Filch," Harry growled. He started for the door, hands clenched into fists, knowing he needed to do something, anything.

But a hand held him back. Draco clutched the sleeve of his robes, on the verge of panic. He looked like he wanted to cry, and suddenly it was far more important to protect the living than avenge the dead.

Harry nodded and practically escorted Draco out of the room. They took off at a run, putting as much distance between themselves and Filch before ascending to the second floor. Harry steered Draco toward Flitwick's room, and Draco complied without a word. Snape's death had hit him pretty hard.

Upon entering, four pairs of eyes looked up hopefully. Harry felt relief wash over him even as he steeled himself to do what had to come next. Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Pansy had all ended up here on their own, so he wouldn't have to go searching for anyone, although it looked as if they had unconsciously, unanimously made him their leader.

Draco took a seat near the front, arms still tight around his body, expression blank.

"What did you do to him?" Pansy jumped up, running over to put her arms around Draco.

Harry waved her silent. "Snape is..." he began, but paused, trying to figure out the easiest way to break it to them. "Filch is... Filch has cracked."

Ron eyed him warily from the back of the room. "Filch has been cracked. What else is new?"

"What else is new?" Harry bit back and then lowered his voice as they all flinched. "He... he... " He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. "Snape is dead."

Pansy gasped at the same time Hermione said, "He can't be."

Harry looked up. Ron was staring at him in disbelief. Neville in horror.

"Filch killed him."

"But... but how?" Ron shook his head. "Filch is a squib. How... how?"

"Poison... I think." Harry shrugged, remembering the mug in Snape's hand. "The point is that we need to get out of here. We need to let someone know."

"We need to save our own asses," Pansy pointed out, "before he comes after us."

"Which means," Harry continued for her, "that we can't stay here. This is the first place he'll come looking for us. So what are our options?"

"Let's just leave," Ron said.

"The doors are locked." It was the first time Draco had spoken since they had left Snape's classroom. His voice was low, head down, staring at his hands, but he had a bit of his mocking tone back.

"The owlry!" Pansy jumped up. "Let's owl Dumbledore or the Ministry of Magic or someone! Anyone!"

Hermione shook her head. "I already checked it. It's locked as well. And all of the classrooms on the second floor are empty. There's no one else here."

"Just Filch and Snape," Ron reminded them bitterly. There was a moment of silence and they suddenly realized how serious the situation was.

"Snape..." Harry smiled. "That's it."

"Yeah," Ron frowned, "Let's all die. What a great plan."

"No, no, no," Harry shook his head, his smile fading, "Snape has keys."

"But..." Neville looked miserable, "Snape is dead."

Harry nodded. It was time to play leader again and the thought somehow calmed him, gave him strength. His voice was strong and clear, showing no hint of the queasiness he felt as he spoke. "We'll just have to get them off his body." He nodded, convincing himself to go through with it. "Let's go."

Ron and Hermione immediately got up to follow. The others, however, looked at him uncertainly.

"I can't go back in there," Draco whispered.

"Well, you can't stay here," Harry replied. He grabbed Draco's arm and the other boy let him pull him to his feet. "None of us can," He said, looking from Neville to Pansy. After a moment of thought they joined him and as a group they headed out.

There was a stairwell immediately to the right of Flitwick's room and they took it. Harry was sure that Filch would be upstairs by now and they didn't need to run into him. There was no sign of him as the group padded quietly across the school. The potions classroom door stood wide open now, and Pansy nearly screamed at the sight of Snape slumped over his desk.

"You three stay here and keep watch," Harry said to her, Neville, and Draco. Ron and Hermione seemed to want to stay with them, but Harry ushered them inside, knowing he couldn't do this alone.

"Well," he said as the three of them stood facing Snape's desk.

Hermione shrank back, covering her mouth with her hands. Harry turned to Ron.

"You take his pockets. I'll take the desk. Hermione, you look in his office."

"Harry..." Ron whispered, his face a sickly shade of green, "could you take the pockets?"

Harry nodded consolingly and they searched. He hesitated before plunging one hand into Snape's pocket. Despite the situation it still felt very wrong to be stealing from a dead man. He dug a little deeper and heard a jingle, but it was nothing more than loose change. A moment later there was a crash a shard of black painted porcelain skidded across the floor to bump his shoe. He peered over the desk; Snape's mug lay broken on the floor.

"Sorry," Ron whispered, blushing. He was shaking pretty badly. "I'm just... "He glanced at Snape and shuddered.

"Is everything all right?" Hermione poked her head out of the office.

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "Find anything?"

"Nothing."

Harry and Ron gave each other a worried look.

"Filch must have taken them," Ron said, and even the green seemed to fade as he paled at the thought.

"At least we don't have to worry about Filch using Snape's wand," Harry murmured, mostly to himself.

Pansy, Draco, and Neville looked up hopefully as they exited into the hall, but Harry simply shook his head.

"Now what?" Neville moaned, sliding down the wall.

"F-Filch!" Pansy shrieked

They all spun. Filch was at the far end of the corridor, and he had just spotted them.

"Run!" Harry yelled and he turned back to see that both Draco and Pansy were gone. The door to the stairwell at the end of the hall banged shut. The others were frozen like deer in headlights as Filch came ever closer.

"Now I've got you," He was growling, eyes bulging in hatred.

"Go!" Harry shoved Ron and Hermione and they took off. He grabbed Neville and yanked him up, following. They skidded to a halt mere yards from Filch and hung a left, racing down the cross bar. At the end of the hall, Harry steered them left again, fueled by the slapping of Filch's boots behind them.

A few steps had them passing the doors to the cafeteria and Harry grabbed the back of Ron and Hermione's robes and practically threw them and Neville inside. He dashed to the end of the hall and slammed open the stairwell door before slipping into the cafeteria himself and gently closing the doors behind him. They waited.

Filch shuffled down the hall, muttering to himself. He paused outside the cafeteria doors, breath rasping. Harry stood just inside, leaning against the wall. One hand covered Neville's mouth, though small whimpers still escaped around his fingers.

They heard the stairwell door slam shut and Filch was moving again. He had fallen for it.

Harry let out the breath he didn't even realize he had been holding and leaned against the wall, feeling boneless.

"Of course," Hermione said, "Filch is going upstairs now."

"Yeah, and?" Ron whispered.

"Draco and Pansy are upstairs."

"Shit, you're right." Harry sprang off the wall, forcing himself to remain calm. "You guys wait here. I'll find them."

"I'm coming, too." Neville said. His voice wavered, but he looked determined.

Harry looked at him in surprise.

Neville gave a shaky smile. "I can't just sit here and wait. I'll go crazy."

Harry grinned. Neville had come a long way since they'd first met. He reached out and grasped Neville's hand. "All right." He nodded. "You two stay here," he said to Ron and Hermione, "We'll be right back."

"No," Hermione pleaded, "Stay with me, Harry."

He looked between the three, brain working furiously. "Okay. I don't think anyone should be alone, so I'll stay here with Hermione and Ron, you go with Neville."

"Right." Ron gave Harry a grim smile. "See you in a few."

Once they were gone, Hermione finally seemed to relax. She shut her eyes, sliding down against the wall. Harry paced in front of the double doors, alert for even the smallest noise.

"Harry," Hermione said after a minute, "please stop that. It's driving me mad."

"Sorry." He grinned sheepishly and sat beside her.

Another minute passed.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Mm?"

"What's been going on between you and Ron?"

Hermione gave a bitter laugh. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out by now." She leaned forward, eyes locked on the opposite wall. "Ron and I haven't been getting along for a while now. Today was the first time we've done more than kissed in a while. Just our luck getting caught." She sighed, "You see, Ron's been lusting after Pansy. She knows but doesn't want anything to do with him."

"Why haven't you broken up?"

She shrugged. "I guess Ron is willing to settle for me."

He nodded. "And you?"

"I love him. I keep hoping he'll come around."

Harry shook his head. "Ron's an idiot not to have fallen for you."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, a slight smile on her lips, but paused. Harry heard it, too. The stairwell door had just fallen shut again. Harry motioned for Hermione to stay put and crept over to the door. He looked out one of the small, high windows. The corridor was empty.

"Strange..." Harry muttered. "No one's there."

Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything.

A short while later, Ron and Neville returned. Harry groaned miserably when he realized they were alone.

Ron shrugged. "They weren't in the halls or the bathrooms."

Harry sighed, "They must have gone back downstairs."

But Neville was shaking his head. "When we didn't find them upstairs, we split up and went down. There's no sign of them. Or Filch."

"Damn it." Harry started to pace again. "They must be hiding somewhere... like in a classroom."

"Or the library," Hermione suggested.

"Right." Harry nodded, "Or the gym, maybe." A thought hit him. "The gym's across the hall from here," he said to Hermione. "Maybe that person... when we heard the door to the stairs close... maybe that's where they went. They could have been inside before I had a chance to look out.

"Unless," he turned to Ron and Neville, "that was one of you?"

But they were both shaking their heads. "We were on the other side of the school," Ron told them.

"Let's try the gym," said Hermione, climbing to her feet.

They went into the hall, all unconsciously tiptoeing, but the school was blissfully quiet. Harry glanced to his left and right; the corridor was empty. Crossing the hall, he reached a hand out to open the gym door, but as his fingers touched the handle, the door swung out of reach and a body slammed into him.

Harry reeled back, hitting Ron. Draco stumbled back as well, catching himself on the door. Harry smiled. "We have to stop meeting like this."

Draco stared back, eyes wide. Suddenly he lunged forward, throwing himself in Harry's arms. "Don't go in there," he said, his voice a harsh whisper.

"What?" Harry wrapped his arms around the other boy instinctively. He looked over Draco's shoulder and froze. As the gym door swung shut, he got a fleeting glimpse of something – someone – lying on the floor.

Harry pried Draco off him and rushed inside, the others right behind him. But as he reached the center of the gym, he came to an abrupt halt.

There was the sound of retching behind him and someone began to sob.

Pansy lay face up, her eyes glassy, surrounded by a pool of blood. Her throat had been cut.

Harry spun away and nearly ran back the way he'd come. He stopped beside the door and leaned his forehead again the cool stone of the gym wall, forcing himself to just breathe. "How...? He wondered aloud, "Didn't hear anyone. No one else came down, did they?"

"I don't know," Hermione said through her tears, and then louder with a hint of hysteria, "I don't know!"

"Isn't it obvious?" Ron asked, voice filled with rage, "It's Malfoy."

Harry looked up. Draco was standing just inside the door, his expression blank.

"Of course," Neville whispered. He was wiping vomit from his chin. "He didn't want us to come in here."

Draco shook his head, but didn't speak. He was staring at Pansy's body.

"No," Hermione stepped forward, "It can't be him."

"And why not?" Ron snarled.

"I don't know," Hermione said yet again.

"Malfoy didn't do it," Harry said at last.

"But—"Ron began at the same time that Neville said, "How—," but Harry cut them both off.

"He just didn't!" He screamed.

The room grew quiet.

"We can't start turning on each other," he continued, much quieter, "Malfoy may be an asshole," at this Draco looked up sharply, though he still wore no discernable expression, "but I don't think he's capable of killing anyone. I don't think any of us are. Remember it was Filch we found in Snape's office. Filch killed Snape. Filch killed..." Harry swallowed, but his throat seemed too tight. He could barely speak. "Filch killed Pansy." It came out in a whisper.

The horror of the past hour was fading and reality was sinking in. Pansy was dead. Gone. Harry might not have considered her a friend, but he had known her. He had seen her every day at meals, in the halls, and in classes. She wasn't a bad person and she didn't deserve to die. Harry shut his eyes and was only vaguely surprised to feel hot tears leak out.

"Harry's right," Hermione said, and Harry was immensely grateful. He was too weary to keep up the role of leader. "Filch is the enemy. We just have to stick together from now on. Just think. There must be something we haven't thought of yet.

Ron was still scowling at Draco, but a moment later the expression materialized into one of realization. "The windows!"

Everyone looked up. The gym was nearly two stories high, its small windows near the ceiling.

Hermione shook her head. "I've already tried. They don't open wide enough to fit through."

"Then we'll break them," Harry said, warming up to the idea.

"With what?" Hermione asked as Harry grabbed Draco, who didn't appear to be able to move on his own, and led them into the hall.

"A desk?" Ron supplied, "Our fists? Anything we can get our hands on."

They slipped down the hall and into an empty classroom. Ron and Harry approached the windows while the others hung back.

Ron picked up a desk and heaved it at the window. It bounced off the window without even scratching the glass, and they had to dive out of the way to avoid it. Harry tried as well with no luck.

"Shit," Ron muttered, setting down the chair he had begun to beat the window with and smoothing his had along the glass, "What's this stuff made of?"

"It must be spelled unbreakable," Draco said, voice low and calm. He seemed more himself away from Pansy's body.

Hermione nodded, "That makes sense."

"Well, that does it," Ron sighed, plopping down on the sill. "We might as well face it: we're dead."

"No," Harry said, "it just means that we need our wands."

Draco chuckled, "We really are too dependent on magic, aren't we?"

But Harry ignored him. "I say we go back and search Filch's office properly. Maybe he still has our wands on him, but there must be an extra set of keys somewhere. We just need to look harder."

Draco stifled another laugh. "Stupid, optimistic Gryffindors."

Harry growled. He crossed the room in long, quick strides and had the front of Draco's robes clenched in his fists before he even realized what he was doing.

"And what would you suggest?" he snarled, their faces inches apart, "That we just accept our fate and die? If that's what you want, then go ahead, but I'm getting out of here. Alive."

Draco watched him for a moment, his eyes unreadable, and then he gave a half-hearted smile. "I'm sorry," he said, eyes locked with Harry's, "I'm sorry that I'm not stupid and brave and hopeful, but two people are dead." The smile dropped. "I'm scared, all right? I'm scared and I don't know what to do. I don't deal with life and death situations all the time like the great Harry Potter—"

"Cut the melodrama, Malfoy."

Draco let out a breath and lowered his eyes. "I'm a coward," he whispered, tense beneath Harry's hands. "Is that what you want to hear? I'm scared and I really, really don't want to die."

Ron smirked. "I never thought I'd live to see Malfoy spilling his heart out to a bunch of Gryffindors."

Harry couldn't take his eyes off Draco. Draco's mouth remained slightly open and it looked as if he had more to say, but now that he realized he had an audience, Harry doubted he would continue.

Finally Draco pulled away, and his robes slipped easily from Harry's hands. He breathed in deeply and met Harry's eyes, making a weak attempt at a sneer. "So what's the plan, Golden Boy?"

Harry smiled. Behind those words and despite everything, Draco trusted him. Hell, he was depending on him. They all were.

"Let's go."

Neville raised one hand slightly, as if attempting to get the attention of a teacher. "Er..." he said, blushing slightly, when all eyes were on him, "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Now?" Harry asked, exasperated.

Neville cringed, but nodded.

"Fine. But you're using the bathroom by Filch's office. I don't want us separated. And," he said, almost as an afterthought, "Hermione's coming with you. No one can be alone."

Neville looked horrified. "But Hermione's a girl."

Harry rolled his eyes, but it was Draco who said, "Observant, isn't he?"

The conversation ended there and they made their way in a silent, tight knit group to Filch's office, pausing at every intersection to look around and listen. Once they'd arrived, Harry motioned for Neville and Hermione to head into the boys' lavatory, mouthing, "Be quick."

After they were gone, he, Ron and Draco turned to face Filch's door and it was a moment before Harry realized they were waiting for him and that, once again, it was up to him to make the first move.

He took a deep breath and opened the door—

--only to find Filch inside, waiting for them.

End Two

TBC

A/N: A major, major change was made here, as someone might notice, being that Pansy didn't die the way I told her she would. This was done for strategic sheep purposes. No. I'll explain what the extent of the change was and the reasons for it at the end of the next chapter, once it won't give anything away.


End file.
